


let's fall in love for the night

by aiviloti



Series: nocturne [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brazil Fling, Comfort, Fling - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Smut, Oihina Fling, Pining, Song Lyrics, Song fic, brazil!oihina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiviloti/pseuds/aiviloti
Summary: Song Fic inspired by song "Let's Fall In Love For The Night"Oihina in Brazil, Brazil, Brazil.Or, alternatively, would a fling hurt if they were fated to meet in here of all places, and if it helps with their heartbreaks, how wrong could it be?
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: nocturne [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873690
Comments: 24
Kudos: 239





	let's fall in love for the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whysosearius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whysosearius/gifts).



> This is a song I love, and I made scenes inspired by the lyrics, and you can find the song here:  
> [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VaKzNtwPQxE) | [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/7kQkmyoHCEqwe7QwDbkSXM?si=yiQ7grbPTgCC4_n7hykzeg)
> 
> It's not explicit, but there are matureish themes so read at your own discretion!

Let's fall in love for the night

And forget in the mornin'

Play me a song that you like

You can bet I'll know every line

I'm the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid

Don't waste your eyes on jealous guys, fuck that noise

I know better than to call you mine

***

“Nice kill!” he says, his ginger hair caught in the wind of the seaside, and he’s laughing at the crowd of people around him, despite the faint feeling of being somewhere he didn’t belong. Here on the shores of Brazil, the only solace he gets is the touch of the leather on his hands, a familiar sensation he had long learned to love, allowing him to find bearings in this place, so, so far away from home, from Japan.

“Seriously though, ehhhh?” Someone says from behind, a voice he hadn’t heard in years, and definitely did not expect to, right here, in faraway Brazil, of all places. But that’s not the first thing he notices. Rather than the voice, it is the language the speaker speaks in. At the mere sound of Japanese, something from home all the way in Japan, a place that his heart aches for, a wave of emotions come rushing in. “Is this real life?” the person asks again, showing how he was just as surprised as Hinata felt.

Hinata turns over in shock, as the sight of familiar brown eyes floods into his vision. The grand king? He thinks to himself, but the bewildered expression on Oikawa’s face, mixed with an amused twinkle in his eyes tells Hinata that Hinata Shouyou was not someone he expected to see either.

“What are you doing here, gr- Oikawa?” Hinata asks, his face evidently a rosy red despite the only lighting being the streetlamps lined up on the beach, although he doesn’t quite know if the blush was from volleyball, or nearly calling Oikawa grand king to his face.

“That’s my line,” Oikawa sneers, but there’s no trace of the maliciousness from all the years back anymore. 

“I’m here to train using beach volleyball,” Hinata announces, proudly taking in the taken aback expression on the older boy’s face, one that heavily resembled everyone else’s when he first told them his decision to head for Brazil to learn beach volleyball.

“...man!” Oikawa says, finally finding words, “You’re a scary kid sometimes, shrimp.”

Between laughter and words, they catch up. It’s amazing, Hinata thinks, how easy it is to talk to Oikawa.

“Oikawa,” Hinata asks, a mouthful of the best food he has tasted since he set foot in Brazil, “Have you seen any of Kageyama’s matches lately?” He chokes a little when he reaches the name he hasn’t said in months, a name buried in the deepest part of his heart, but maybe it’s from the food.

Oikawa hesitates, before saying, “...nope.” Hinata laughs at how endearing every bit of this is, and how much the familiarity comforts him. 

Come to think of it, it wasn’t like he’d ever really interacted with Oikawa off volleyball courts. Their interactions were limited to squeaking sounds of sneakers against the volleyball courts, the steady thuds of leather balls coated in layers of sweat and passion, and the occasional menacing glance they could muster across the net when they weren’t looking at the ball.

None of those glances across the net felt like this, though.

They were talking about volleyball, filling up the gaps in each other’s minds about their own lifes, and the mutual acquaintances on this same path of pursuit of their common love of volleyball, so why were their glances lingering on each other, why were the looks in each other’s eyes electrifying, and why did it send a satisfying chill up Hinata’s spine every time Oikawa smiled?

Hinata supposed he had the answer, though he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“Come on, let’s go and play!” Hinata tells Oikawa, a suggestion popping into his head. “Around here, everyone plays until pretty late!” 

They do, because volleyball is the only constant that stayed the same in this ridiculously everchanging world that Hinata loved, one that even his speed and reflexes couldn’t keep up with.

Oikawa makes a point of grumbling about beach volleyball as a whole, comparing it to indoor volleyball, and Hinata can only feel his lips curve into a smile as he watches him, Oikawa Tooru, of all people, whine about how he’s a beginner, and Hinata, little shrimp, should stop laughing at a beginner who couldn’t do well at a sport. 

Hinata had been feeling depressed the previous night, clinging to a place that he had set aside by his own will, but Oikawa had to come to him, and dispel every doubt Hinata had about everything, daring to barge in Hinata’s life bringing tides and waves of warmth and the familiarity Hinata hungered for.

To be fair, Hinata has to admit he likes it, all of this, their casual banter swept away in the breeze of the seaside under the stars and street lamps, Oikawa’s steady insults that remind him of a certain someone else’s.

It is only an hour, the length of time they spend with each other, but it has Hinata craving for this particular brand of familiarity only achievable with someone who has spent years walking the same path as you have. The spell breaks as someone comes in, asking the duo for a game in exchange for beer if they win. They accept, because why wouldn’t they?

Hinata is entranced by Oikawa and how gracefully he seems to dance despite the sand clearly not being his domain. You can tell how he’s cautious of how he stands and jumps, wary of the sand betraying him every time he lands, but you can also tell he radiates a sort of confidence despite treading carefully, as if he were shouting to the world “Hey! Look at me! I’m Oikawa Tooru and don’t you dare look away at how fantastic I am!”

It is working though, because if they weren’t in the middle of a game that threatened Hinata’s (already lost) wallet, he was very tempted to stare. Or maybe it was all in Hinata’s head, and the warm ecstatic happiness Hinata hasn’t felt amidst the numbness is getting to him, and it’s messing with his head, thoughts, feelings.

In Hinata’s many years, he’s seen dozens of thousands of beautifully arched tosses and sets by the prodigal Kageyama, his very dearest teammate for years, but he watches Oikawa serve and he watches him set these balls and he marvels all over at how perfectly Oikawa has honed and perfected his craft over the years, and all Hinata thinks is how fitting the title of the grand kind is for this person, his plays regal under the moonlight.

Hinata spins the volleyball out of habit, shaking the sand off, but he just can’t seem to shake the tug at his gut when he looks at the way Oikawa smirks at him after the game, taunting him for finally being better at him in some way.

* * *

You need a pick-me-up?

I'll be there in twenty-five

I like to push my luck

So take my hand, let's take a drive

I've been livin' in the future

Hopin' I might see you sooner

I want you ridin' shotgun

I knew when I got one right

***

“You have a car? I thought you were only here for a week!” Hinata exclaims, getting into the passenger seat next to Oikawa’s. 

“I rented it,” Oikawa smirks. “Thought it’d be easier to get around if I wanted to get the tourist experience anyway, so now that my adorable junior so happens to be here, I might as well make the most use out of him, isn’t that right?” He steps on the gas pedal, and the car zooms away, Hinata’s hostel fading away. “There are perks to being an international level pro athlete, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Where are we going?” Hinata asks, leaning into the seat.

“You were going to treat me to something yesterday, weren’t you?” Oikawa flicks Hinata a glance before averting his eyes to focus on the road, but just for one second, he wonders if he’s imagining the fondness in Hinata’s eyes. 

They talk the same way they did the day before in this tiny restaurant that Hinata insisted captured the “true vibes of Brazil” or whatever he was on, and they laugh and joke, cramped here on opposite ends of this tiny, cramped table. The space they are confined to is ridiculously small; too small for food enough to feed two ravenous people, and far, far too small for their knees to not brush against each other’s, for their fingers to not touch as they reach for the last piece of meat.

It wasn’t voiced, but the two of them were perfectly in sync, fulfilling their ends of the silent agreement to not talk about this, about what was happening between them, and what wasn’t.

Just like how they don’t talk about the way Oikawa suddenly finds Hinata’s lips pressed to his once they get in the car, hidden away from prying eyes.

Oikawa doesn’t know how he drives the rest of the way to his place, nor does he remember how they make their way onto his bed, hands in hair, and lips on lips.

All he does knows, is that right here on the soft duvets of this unfamiliar bed here in Brazil, he wants more of this familiar feeling of another body pressed to his, in the form of this person, who’s orange hair was too bright for his own good, brown eyes vacuums that sucked every thought out of Oikawa’s head, leaving only his loud presence in his thoughts, as if he were warning Oikawa, “don’t you dare look away from me”.

Oikawa found that he didn’t hate the idea of succumbing to this, to him, Hinata Shouyou, whose presence drowned everything else.

“May I?”

“Yes,” Oikawa breathes, barely successful.

* * *

I love it when you talk that nerdy shit

We're in our twenties talking thirties shit

We're making money but we're saving it

'Cause talking shit is cheap and we talk a lot of it

You won't stay with me, I know

But you can have your way with me 'til you go

And if all your kisses turn into bruises, I'm a warnin'

***

“You know,” Oikawa says, an arm lazily draped over Hinata’s muscled torso, “I don’t remember the last time I was bottom.” He laughs, a laughter that echoes into the hot, humid Brazil air.

“Were you doi- dating Iwaizumi?” Hinata asks, an air of curiosity about him.

“Was I dating Iwa-chan? Was I doing it with Iwa-chan? Yeah,” Oikawa laughs, but it rings with melancholy, a harsher edge to it. “But you’re not here to listen to someone who it was convenient to have a fling with waffle on about their sad love story, are you?”

Hinata sits up, indignation shining in his eyes. “That’s not what I think of you at all, Oikawa. We are friends, aren’t we?”

“Oh?” Oikawa points to the two of them, still undressed, “is this what casual friends do?” He chirps, smiling as he gets the reaction he was targeting from Hinata, who blushes red. 

“If it’s weighing on you, you can talk to me,” Hinata says, “That’s all I meant. And if you don’t want to, then I’m not going to intrude.”

Oikawa sighs, and Hinata settles back down, moving back into Oikawa’s embrace. “What’s there to tell? We got together back in second year and then suddenly I was going to Argentina and Iwa-chan was going on his path. Good for us, I guess, to have things we wanted, but it wasn’t together, so, what’s the point?” Oikawa muses. “I was too scared, I still am, maybe I’ll always be.”

“I think, it’s worth a try if you really do love him, y’know?” Hinata says slowly, “Maybe he’s waiting for you, who knows.”

“Who knows,” Oikawa can only echo hollowly.

They lie there in silence, only the swinging of the air conditioning that didn’t seem to be working filling the gaps between them, until Oikawa breaks the silence. 

“What about you and Tobio-chan?”

“Wh- What about us?”

“Oh come on, I’m not blind,” Oikawa states. “When are you going to tell him?”

“...When I win. When I’m a match for him,” Hinata says softly, “I’ll tell him that I love him, and I’ll keep spiking any balls he sets.”

“You had better start getting good, then, huh?”

A smile of a black haired boy from many years ago surfaces in Oikawa’s head, and he laughs again, the way he has been laughing ever since he came into Hinata’s company. He laughs and laughs in the only way he knows how, until he’s tasting salt in his lips again for how many times in the past five years of that “Say, Iwa-chan, what if we break up?”. Another pair of lips pressed onto his face, in the spots wet from tears, Oikawa clings to this person, the only sense of familiarity he manages to seek in this unfamiliar city.

* * *

Let's fall in love for the night

And forget in the mornin'

Play me a song that you like

You can bet I'll know every line

'Cause I'm the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid

Don't waste your eyes on jealous guys, fuck that noise

I know better

I know better

I know better than to ever call you mine

***

“Go confess to Tobio-chan, shrimp,” Oikawa says, his tone so casual that it could have just as easily been him telling Hinata to go get some milk, yet bustling with newfound energy in these busy streets of Brazil, a conversation between two friends who didn’t belong here, not really.

“After everything we’ve been through, it’s still shrimp?” Hinata’s lips curve into a smile, tilting his head as he looks at Oikawa and his red suitcase, an indication that this parting would strip him of the familiarity he had grown accustomed to, but somehow, it doesn’t feel as jarring.

“Don’t push your luck, Shouyou,” Oikawa grins at him, luggage in hand. 

“If you’re asking me of something, I’d expect the same of you, oh great king,” Hinata beams back at Oikawa. “And don’t slack off, the next time we meet, we very well may be on opposite sides of the net.”

“I never got you back for my third year, did I, shrimp? I’m going to beat everyone, so be ready for it.”

Hinata waves him off, watches as Oikawa’s silhouette disappears into the crowds, as he feels his heart getting lighter and lighter.

“Oh I will,” he mutters to himself, barely a whisper. “Just you wait, Oikawa, Kageyama.”

**Author's Note:**

> And there you go, my first Haikyuu fic, also a request by a good friend! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Somewhat inspired by [this post](https://twitter.com/Liann1009/status/1250689174102917122?s=20) on Twitter, please check it out!


End file.
